


we could go make history (or you could rest in peace)

by lavi0123



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aang (Avatar)-centric, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Evil Zuko, Fire Lord Zuko, Gen, i’m sorry (but only a little), mostly because he and azula keep their canon personalities for the most part, no seriously he is TERRIFYING, tho zuko is much more manipulative here, yeah this is gonna get AANG-sty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:27:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29467974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavi0123/pseuds/lavi0123
Summary: Aang has heard many things about the Fire Lord, the youngest in over a century.He has heard tales of his time as Prince, when he was renowned for his kindness and compassion.He has especially heard the whispers of the former Fire Lord’s death.Aang has heard all of this and more, especially from Former Princess Azula herself.Or: the axis of the universe tilts slightly, and one small change leads to a different confrontation with the Fire Lord.
Relationships: Aang & The Gaang (Avatar), Aang & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 64





	we could go make history (or you could rest in peace)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, listen, I know I said I'm working on the Bumizumi AU, and I still am!
> 
> ...but I started reading salt and ashes yesterday (which I highly recommend), and I re-listened to The Other Side of Hollywood (which I took the title from), and this idea has been bouncing around in my head anyway, so why not?
> 
> Hope you guys like it! And you might wanna have some tissues ready.

Aang has heard many things about the Fire Lord, the youngest in over a century.

He has heard tales of his time as Prince, when he was renowned for his kindness and compassion. The most popular story of then is of when he stood at 13 in a meeting of his father and generals and spoke out in defense of a group of new soldiers, hoping to spare their lives. He was schooled for his efforts, but the soldiers did not forget.

He has heard of the young Lord’s care for the turtleducks, how he cares for them even now–some things are not easily changed. Some say it is in memory of his mother, but they dare not say so too loudly–to speak of Lady Ursa is to speak _treason_.

He has heard, most especially, of the young Princess, blank-faced and sharp, facing off against a general who had dared insult her Crown Prince–except it’s not the general, it’s her _father_ , and she can’t fight him, she’s been raised to serve his every need, why–

Blossoming pain, screams, and...a Prince, watching this all, with pity and fury warring on his face. Those who were seated close to him swore up and down that he was gripping the handrests of his chair so tightly that his knuckles had turned even paler than his skin.

Aang has especially heard the whispers of the former Fire Lord’s death. Many loudly condemn the princess for it, as is expected of them...but few among them, the cleverest ones, who have always seen something strange in the eyes of the Prince, stay silent and wary.

The new Fire Lord was crowned on the dawn of the next day. Zuko smiled and promised a swift end to the war, with more conviction in his tone than any other before him. _Though Sozin_ , people said, _once said the same things_. They learned to whisper when one too many of them let their voice rise a little too high.

Aang has heard all of this and more, especially from Former Princess Azula herself.

Zuko has done something unorthodox: he has sent an invitation to the Avatar, wherever he might be, to meet with him for tea. Azula hears of it and curses, loudly, ignoring Katara’s protests.

Azula has drilled into him all the lessons of fire and lightning and subterfuge as best as she can, somehow without breaking his spirit or her own. “Now,” she says, “it’s up to you.”

So here he is, at the gates of the Fire Nation Palace, his expression carefully blank as he swallows one last lump in his throat and approaches the nearest guard.

“Excuse me–” he starts to say, but the guard clearly recognizes him.

“Avatar Aang?” He asks appraisingly.

Aang nods. “Yes, that’s me.” He silently congratulates himself on not letting his voice shake too much.

“Fire Lord Zuko has been expecting you.”

As he walks through the Palace, he lets his eyes wander, cataloging his surroundings. He’s not quite as practiced at it as Azula, but he registers the arched entryway, the hallways sunlit with curtains drawn back, the golden trim on every surface, the ornate architecture…

As far as he can guess, Zuko is aiming for a middle ground between welcoming and threatening. It sets Aang ill at ease, and perhaps that’s the point.

“Fire Lord, sir, Avatar Aang is here to see you.”

Zuko’s head snaps in his direction, and Aang startles. Zuko’s eyes are bright gold, brighter even than his prodigious sister’s, seemingly kind, with something...else behind them. He smiles at Aang, but Aang can feel something off in the air. Zuko is dangerous, and what scares Aang most is that he can only tell because of the instincts Azula has honed in him.

Azula has always told him to trust his instincts. She has also told him to never show weakness to anyone outside of the Gaang. So he takes a breath, stands straighter, and smiles back at Zuko, trying not to betray his nervousness.

“Avatar Aang,” Zuko greets. “I’ve looked forward to finally meeting you.”

“I’ve heard many things about you, Fire Lord Zuko,” Aang replies in kind, taking pride in the lack of shake in his voice, belatedly sinking to his knees in prostration. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

He hopes Zuko isn’t offended, can’t risk setting him off just yet with so many guards in the room, but Zuko looks nothing but amused at this child playing hero. “The pleasure is all mine. Come, let’s sit together.”

Aang nods, rising slowly and following him to a set of two cushions on opposite sides of a table, set with two placements of tea. Zuko sits cross-legged on one of them, and Aang follows suit, hoping that Zuko can’t hear or feel the jackrabbit’s pace of his heart.

Toph would feel it. Toph would know in a second. But Zuko isn’t Toph, nor does he have her power, so Aang takes a breath and forces his shoulders to relax.

Zuko watches him as he does this, then says, “Don’t be nervous. I don’t mean you any harm, Aang.” Aang startles, and Zuko blushes. “I apologize, that was forward of me. I should’ve asked if you mind me being so familiar with you.”

“I don’t mind,” Aang allows, because what else is there to say? Zuko is the Fire Lord, and Aang can hardly defy him in his own Palace.

Zuko smiles wider and says, “Well, Aang, I must admit, you impress me. I’ve heard of your travels through the Water Tribes, the various provinces of the Earth Kingdom...and even to the various Air Temples.” Aang barely suppresses a flinch at that last mention, but Zuko continues. “From what I hear...you’ve also seen my errant sister.”

“Sister?” Aang questions, tilting his head. “I didn’t know you had siblings, Fire L–”

“If I’m to call you Aang, it’s only fair if you call me Zuko,” he interrupts. “And yes, in the legal sense, I have no siblings...not anymore. How much do you know about Fire Nation politics, Aang?”

“Very little,” Aang admits, somewhat truthfully. “But I’ve heard about how the princess was banished a year ago. Feels like I’ve heard three different stories,” he adds, a little bitterly. Getting Azula to tell them the truth had been _hard_ , and he doesn’t like to think of how that conversation had gone.

“Is that so?” Zuko hums, snapping Aang back to reality. “I don’t expect you’d know much anyway, given your young age, but the fact that you _have_ heard some things is...interesting indeed.”

Aang feels queasy all of a sudden. _Did I say something wrong? I didn’t name names...no one’s in danger, right? But does this Fire Lord even_ need _names to enact justice?_

Aang recalls that Zuko sent a message discreetly, with seemingly full confidence that it would reach its destination unchanged. He wonders, not for the first time, just how much power Zuko holds.

“Aang?”

Aang smiles sheepishly, cursing himself for losing focus. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Zuko is still smiling indulgently at him, and if Aang were any less patient, he’d pick a fight here and now. But his friends have stressed the importance of watching and waiting, so he does.

“I was saying,” Zuko says, “that you are a powerful and sharp young man, Aang, and I commend you for it.”

Despite himself, Aang blushes. “Thank you, Zuko.”

Zuko seems pleased, even as he teases, “Not going to return the compliment?”

“Oh! I-I–”

“I’m only teasing, Aang, relax.” Zuko sighs. “Though I hope you’ll answer a question honestly for me. I know you’ve seen her, but have you talked with my sister during your travels?”

Aang debates whether or not to be truthful. Azula, Toph, and Sokka would tell him to misdirect, turn the conversation, deflect. But Katara would tell him to tell the truth, to placate the Fire Lord until he can gain an advantage...and Azula wouldn’t disagree with that. So he says, “Yes, I have.”

Zuko nods. “I thought so. It seems she has managed to rub off on you quite a bit...though her mannerisms don’t seem to suit you quite as well. A little more practice, perhaps.”

Aang doesn’t understand. What is Zuko doing? This whole thing with the tea, complimenting him, giving him pointers...what does he want? Aang bluntly asks him so, and he nods.

“I was expecting you’d ask that.” Zuko eyes him appraisingly for a moment, then says, “Truthfully, Aang, this position is no easy one. Being the youngest Fire Lord in over a century, surrounded by rumors from the moment of my coronation...you can imagine the toll it takes on me.”

Aang nods slowly, something roaring in his heart. Is Zuko trying to elicit _pity_ , from a victim of his forefathers’ crimes?

“I promised a swift end to this war, and I intend to deliver it, but...not in the way of my forefathers.” He meets Aang’s eyes seriously. “Aang, you are the most powerful bender in existence, and I am the ruler of a nation with the most powerful bending style. Allow me to suggest frankly that perhaps our interests are best aligned, not pitted against each other.”

_Do you think we could’ve been friends, too?_

The thought jolts across Aang’s neurons, searing into his mind, and he startles noticeably this time, upsetting his cup onto the tablecloth.

“Aang?”

Aang looks up at Zuko, and suddenly, with a bolt of clarity, he remembers that once, he extended an olive branch to Azula. Azula, with a scar across her eye, fury in her bones, and an endless yearning for _something_.

Aang asked her if they could be friends. It should be a sign for him to accept this offer, freely given–Zuko is gentler than his sister, most of the accounts he has heard prove that much. Perhaps Aang could even end the war without violence, as he wishes to, given enough time to earn Zuko’s trust. _It’s what Azula would do_.

But Zuko...his eyes are kind, and his smile is warm, but it’s not the same as with Azula. He has Aang _trapped_ –spirits, how could it ever be the _same_?

“Aang, are you okay?”

Aang nods shakily. “Yes. I’m sorry, I...I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Let me just–”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll have it cleaned,” Zuko excuses, his gaze unwavering. “I’m more concerned with your answer.”

“My…?”

Zuko sighs, as if wondering if Aang is being obtuse on purpose (he’s not entirely wrong). “Do you agree that our interests are best aligned? That we should be friends?”

Aang looks at Zuko for a long moment, registers the impatience and faltering warmth, and knows his answer instantly.

_Sorry, Zula. But I can’t pretend. Not even for this war. He’s done too much, hurt too many. I can’t._

“No.”

Zuko blinks. Once. Twice. Then he chuckles. “I don’t think you understand–”

“I understand perfectly,” Aang replies, his tone level but edged with fury. “After what you’ve done, after what your _forefathers_ have done–”

“The past is past, Aang,” Zuko says, a little more sharply than Aang thinks he means to. “Surely we can all move on and heal? End this war together, as allies? I know your people were so fond of nonviolence, will you turn on them so quickly?”

“How dare you,” Aang whispers, unable to hold back any longer as he shouts, “How _dare_ you! You have no right to bring them up, after what you did!”

“After what my great-grandfather Sozin did,” Zuko corrects, “and let me remind you, he and you were friends once, in one of your past lives. Avatar Roku, wasn’t it?”

Aang’s head is spinning; he can’t think straight. Zuko is leaping from topic to topic so quickly that even Aang, usually so light on his feet, can barely keep up. “He would hate you,” Aang snaps.

“Oh, I highly doubt that.” Zuko smiles now. “You see, Aang, I have more than one great-grandfather.”

Aang’s expression gives way to horror. _No...no, he can’t mean–_

“We’re family, Aang,” Zuko whispers, clasping Aang’s hand. “And blood is thicker than water, isn’t it?”

“We’re not family,” Aang protests, trying to pull away, but Zuko’s grip is surprisingly strong. “I don’t care how many great-grandfathers you’ve had. I’m not Avatar Roku.”

Zuko tilts his head, considering. “Aren’t you?”

“No. We might share the same soul, but we’re different people.”

“Hmm. That’s a shame.” Zuko sighs. “And here I was, hoping that we could rule together as family.”

“Even if we were, what makes you think I would _ever_ want to rule with _you_?” Aang cries. “It’s no secret what you’ve done to my people!”

“But it _is_ a secret who started it, is it not?” Zuko hums. “I always found it quite a shame that your history was buried. I’ve wondered what it must’ve been like, living in a society as free and open as that. Wouldn’t you like for people to know what it was _really_ like, rather than just what the textbooks say?”

“If you know the textbooks are wrong, then why not just fix them?”

“It’s not that easy, Aang. You can’t just remove history–you have to replace it with something else.”

Aang scoffs. “Or else the people will fill in the blanks?”

“Exactly,” Zuko agrees, looking puzzled at Aang’s scorn. “They would be learning incorrect information.”

“They’re learning wrong information _now_!”

“And that’s part of why I’m asking you to join me!” Zuko’s eyes are alight now, hopeful. “Think of what we could do, Aang! The Avatar and the Fire Lord...we’d be unstoppable!”

“And what if I were to disagree with your methods?” Aang replies, his voice shaking– _Azula would be so disappointed_ , he thinks sadly. “If I thought your methods were too aggressive, or you’d chosen undeserving targets?”

“This would be a partnership, Aang,” Zuko says. “We would work in tandem–as family and as friends.”

But _in tandem_ means little with Zuko’s experience over him, his superior authority in his home Nation, and his stronger goodwill with the people. There are dissenters, but everyone has them, and none will be as loud as the voices against Aang should he disagree with their Fire Lord.

And Aang can never in good conscience work with someone who speaks so casually of the massacre of his own people. To do that would be to dishonor them and what they died for.

“My answer is still no,” Aang repeats, gaze hard as he looks up at Zuko. “I’ll never join you, no matter what you say.”

Zuko narrows his eyes. “I’d watch your tone if I were you. I may have allowed you to speak freely, but you’re still in _my_ Palace by _my_ good grace.”

Aang glares up at Zuko and says, “Well, I know one thing I’m allowed to do, even against the Fire Lord. I challenge you to an Agni Kai.”

Zuko’s eyes widen. “What for? I haven’t offended your honor!”

“You’ve insulted my people and treated their deaths like a necessary sacrifice that can be overlooked.”

“I–no! I said that we can restore their history and move on from the past!”

“Move on?” Aang cries. “You think we can just change a few words in the textbooks and just _move on_ like it never happened? Do you really think that’s all it takes to earn the loyalty of someone your forefathers have so deeply hurt?”

Zuko frowns. “Think what you wish. I refuse your challenge.”

“What? Why?”

“I won’t fight a duel with a child.”

“I’m no child, I’m the Avatar!”

“I don’t care how powerful you think you are, you are _still_ a child! I won’t fight you, and that is _final_!”

The ringing of Zuko’s last shout fades into complete silence. Aang’s eyes fill with tears as he whispers, “So that’s where you draw the line, huh? A massacre is fine, conquering is fine, killing _civilians_ is fine–but dueling the Avatar is suddenly a big no-no? Is that what I’m hearing?”

Zuko scowls. “I’ve heard enough. Guards, seize him!”

Aang airbends up and away as the guards swarm the room. He breathes heavily, his heart stammering.

Zuko’s eyes narrow. “So, it’s truly a fight you want, then, Avatar? Fine. Subduing you should be quick anyway.” Summoning a flame, he throws it at Aang.

Aang dodges, summoning his own flame and throwing it at Zuko. He’s never managed to achieve Azula’s blue, but this does the job just fine, even as it misses its target and is swallowed by the other flames around his throne.

Zuko continues to throw flame at him, Aang continues to dodge, and he even bends the tea from his cup and Zuko’s, forming two whips that he strikes at him.

Zuko dodges but manages to grab one. His hand goes straight through, and in his surprise, it manages to strike him across the shoulder. He winces in pain and finally glares, fully and unabashedly, for the first time at Aang, his teeth bared and eyes flashing.

Aang can deal with this. He’s heard enough about the Fire Lord’s legendary temper, stronger in his youth but no less potent now. He’s been often described as a dragon made flesh, and Aang can see no more apt descriptor. But he’s had experience with dragons, and he knows how to tame them. This should be no different.

Zuko _roars_ , flames bursting from his mouth, and though Aang dodges again, the flames manage to catch part of his robes, startling him into landing. As soon as he does, he shifts the ground, making it unsteady for the others as he stands firm. He won’t let them win–he _can’t_.

Zuko smirks, seemingly satisfied at finally landing him on the ground. Aang knows that he could just take off again, but Zuko could just as easily catch him off guard some other way. At least here, he can earthbend too.

The tea is splattered on the ground, and Aang bends it into whips again and strikes them at Zuko, his heart thudding. He can’t keep this up forever. He needs a plan.

“You’re not going to win!” Zuko calls sharply to him. “Sozin kept records of Avatar Roku. It’s only a matter of time before I beat you.”

“Then do it already!” Aang challenges, feeling unusually brazen. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, the anger, or both, but he won’t give ground to Zuko.

Zuko narrows his eyes and sends a surge of flames via the ground towards Aang.

Aang has never been good at dodging in the earthbender way–he hops up and away, losing his advantage.

Zuko, footing regained, smirks. “Exhibit B.”

Airbending down, earthbending down. Aang tries to slow his racing heart, still with the whips in his hands. He still has enough weapons up his sleeve, if he can just–

He barely catches the approach of fire, and he dodges again, but too late–it catches his arm and _stings_ , and the whips falls back into a puddle of tea as he fights against the pain. Azula has never thrown fire at him straight-on like this...but then again, he’s never been so distracted as to forget to dodge a simple blast. _What’s wrong with me?_

By the time he regains himself, his arms are hurting for an entirely different reason–he’s being restrained, and though he tries to fight, he can’t. He’s at least mastered his Breath of Fire, but when he tries that, Zuko stuffs a gag in his mouth, eyes narrowed in contempt.

“I’m disappointed in you, Aang,” he says. “I thought we could be friends.”

Aang scowls, knowing any words he has to say will be swallowed by the gag in his mouth.

Zuko tsks. “You can’t even put up a good fight against me. Though I suppose that’s the spirits’ fault, for sending a boy to do a _man’s_ job.”

 _What will you do with me?_ Aang wants to ask, but he can’t.

“Guards,” Zuko says, “you know what to do with him.”

They drag him along, gripping him so tightly that his burn flares with pain, dulling his senses enough that even _thinking_ about fighting right now is too much.

They throw him in a cold, metal cell with no bars and one small light source. He can light his own flame, but he can’t escape–there’s no water around, Toph never taught him to metalbend, and there’s nowhere big enough to slip through or a weakness he can blow open. He supposes he could try to burn through the metal, but something tells him that won’t be successful, given that this is a _Fire Nation_ prison.

Despair settles over him like a dark cloud. This was supposed to be his chance, his moment to take out the Fire Lord in a moment of weakness. He had so many chances. But he squandered all of them, and Zuko got the better of him, and now he’s going to die here, alone.

Will his friends even know what’s become of him? Will Zuko tell them the truth? Will he even tell them directly, or will they find out from whispers or shouts?

He curls up into a ball, shaking and afraid, and cries.

He just hopes that his next reincarnation has more luck and brains than him.

**Author's Note:**

> And there we go! See, wasn't that worth it?
> 
> The basic premise of this is taken from the summary of "the sun don't shine underground" by ultranos here on AO3, though the Zuko and Azula in this fic don't quite follow the same trajectory. Still, that's the idea I was going for–Zuko beloved, Azula pretty much the same as canon. And the idea of Azula being exiled instead of Zuko is intriguing.
> 
> As for how Azula was banished in this fic, well...I'll leave that up to audience interpretation :D


End file.
